


Keep Careful Watch

by Tenebrielle



Series: The Heirs of Durin [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Durin Family Feels, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenebrielle/pseuds/Tenebrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all princes live in golden halls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Careful Watch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meskeet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meskeet/gifts).



> I wrote this ages ago, to go with Hollowing Souls. Finally posting it now!

* * *

 

When Fili first learned he was heir to the kingdom of Durin, he wept. Not because he was overcome by the responsibility or the gravity of his inheritance, but because he was four years of age and Uncle Thorin chose his words poorly when explaining the meaning of _heir_. Fili had been so distressed by the idea of his uncle’s death that he wailed so loudly his cries brought his mother running. She had cried too, but with laughter, when she found her panicked brother, the King under the Mountain, trying both to comfort his distraught nephew and to detach the boy from his leg, all while he stammered out an explanation as to why Fili was wailing so.

He took the news a few years later that he was to become a brother much better, or so his mother said. Fili was still very young when Kili was born, a chubby little black-haired babe who made everyone (even Uncle and Mister Dwalin) smile. Kili had barely begun to walk when their father died of fever. All Fili had of him was his blond hair and an easy, good-humored nature that could not have come from the hot-tempered line of Durin. But he did remember his brother’s little hands clutching at his sleeve, the hem of his coat, any part of Fili he could reach to keep himself upright.

Fili never pushed him away, not then, not years later when he thought he would burst under the twin weights of his uncle’s expectations and his family duties.   They were brothers. There was no one else.

* * *

 

Usually it was cause for celebration when Uncle Thorin returned from one of his journeys. He would smile and toss Kili high into the air, rumple Fili’s braids affectionately, embrace their mother. Sometimes he brought companions with him, like Mister Balin or Mister Dwalin, and Fili and his brother were permitted to stay up late making merry with them.

Sometimes, though, there were other journeys that were not so merry. There was little joy when Thorin returned from these. He would appear as suddenly as he had left, sometimes leading a spent pony with hollow ribs, sometimes on foot with splashes of blood and worse staining his worn blue coat. He never spoke, just crouched to embrace his nephews, armor and all. He held them until Kili would squirm and whine to be released. Fili did not whine, even though it hurt to be pressed to his uncle’s armor, because whining was not kingly. He was very concerned about behaving _kingly_. But Fili also saw Thorin meet his mother’s eyes and shake his head slightly, and he saw the way his mother brushed at her dark eyes and tried to hide her sorrow.

The day Thorin brought them news of the quest to reclaim Erebor was joyful indeed. Neither of them had ever seen Uncle so…alive, so hopeful while he described his meeting with the wizard. Kili was beside himself with the idea of a real, proper adventure. Fili was outwardly calm as he packed his pipe, but inside his heart sang with excitement.  A home, _a real home_ , for their people. Their kingdom restored. Fili didn’t pay any mind to the talk of riches, or the faint gleam in Thorin’s eyes when he spoke of gold. He did notice how his mother went quiet, though, and how a shadow of sadness seemed to mingle with her outward joy.

He never got the chance to ask her about it amidst the chaos of preparations for their journey. They were all leaving at once; Thorin was bound for a meeting of the Council, but he would share the road with his nephews for part of the way. Their mother first embraced Kili, pressing something into his hand that made him grin. Fili was next, and as usual she admonished him to keep careful watch. But there was something about the way her eyes drifted to her brother that made Fili think that, for once, she did not just mean over Kili.

* * *

 

He did not notice the change that had come over Thorin until Kili was wounded. Perhaps he did not wish to see it, in the trauma of his brother’s injury and their frantic flight to Laketown. Kili _had_ noticed and said as much to Fili privately; he had always been more perceptive than he looked. But Fili did not listen, did not believe until they were standing on that horrible, quaking dock and Uncle Thorin was shattering his brother’s hopes.

It was hard to believe that mere hours before he had been _seeing_ Thorin for the first time. He has known Thorin all his life, played with the oaken shield that had given him his name, sat at his knee to listen to his tales, fought and feasted and mourned by his side, but Fili had never really _seen_ him until that moment he took the stairs. His heart soared as the king their uncle, ragged and disarmed, humiliated at the point of a sword, stood up and finally, _finally_ claimed his legacy.

Now he warred with himself in the boat while the king his uncle watched, grim-faced. It was a test, and both he and Thorin knew it. Fili had always had these two great duties in his life: a prince of Erebor and an older brother. Usually the two roles coincided; Kili was also a prince of Erebor, though as second-born he was not heir apparent.

Deep in his heart, Fili knew that Thorin could not risk the quest to reclaim Erebor for Kili’s sake.  All their people were looking to Thorin; it was bigger than just his kin. There was much to be lost, and even more to be gained. But he sensed something else, something sinister, in Thorin’s sharp words, and for the first time in his life, Fili began to doubt his uncle’s judgment.

Yet Kili was more than just kin, he was also a prince of the mountain. Like Fili, he had spent his whole life dreaming of the day they would look for the first time on the halls of their fathers. In those dreams, Fili had never been alone. His brother had always been by his side where he belonged. Where they both belonged. He could not find it in his heart to deny Kili that moment. If taking that shared triumph away from his brother was being kingly, well, Fili wanted no part of it.

Though his heart was rent by the disappointment in his uncle’s eyes, Fili broke his promise to Thorin Oakenshield and remained behind with his brother.

 

* * *

 

Kili writhed in pain, sobbing for breath between screams. Fili watched helplessly. He was burning from within, like their father so many years ago, and it struck terror deep into Fili’s heart.  He knew not which black poison coursed through his veins or what demons plagued Kili in his delirium, but he knew without doubt that this was beyond Oin’s skill to heal. All Fili could do was hold his brother tight and leave his life in the hands of the she-elf.

Whether it was by magic or by skill that his brother was saved, Fili did not know. All he knew was that his brother was alive, and that was enough. Kili nodded off shortly after the elf finished dressing his wound, quickly sinking into the deep sleep of total exhaustion. Numbly, Fili found the damp cloth somewhere in the wreckage of the furniture and wiped his brother’s sweaty face. He could feel the elf’s eyes on his back, but he paid her no mind. Kili did not stir. His skin was still very pale, but the deadly heat had gone out of him and he breathed easily now. With Bofur and Oin’s help they moved him back to the man’s too-big bed while the younger girl-child watched with wide eyes. Fili sagged down beside him, suddenly wanting nothing more than to sleep for a week.

Something hot brushed his skin, and Fili opened his eyes to see the elder girl-child pressing a too-large mug into his hand. The aroma of broth wafted from the mug. He nodded his thanks to her and sipped it greedily. Bofur and Oin were looking to him for leadership, the elf was looking at him with the unreadable expression of all her kin, the far-off mountain still rumbled. Fili ignored them all, just for a moment. Kili wasn’t going to die. He reached over to brush a stray strand of hair from his sleeping brother’s face and let relief soak deep into his bones.

Fili was proud, as was Thorin, as was Thrain, as was Thror. None of his grandfathers would have accepted the elf’s help, or even considered thanking her. But Fili looked from his brother to the she-elf with uncertainty. She had saved Kili’s life at risk to her own, not once, but many times. It was not kingly to ignore her.

Fili frowned. Well, better _her_ than that hateful elvish princeling. He swallowed the last of his broth and took a deep breath. “Tauriel,” he said aloud, the delicate name rough and unfamiliar on his tongue. Kili had called to her his delirium. Bofur and Oin were staring at him, but he did not care. She looked up, and Fili made himself meet her eyes. “Thank you.”


End file.
